Upon the stairs he met the landlord, who, followed by a furniture-broker, entered the room of the organ-grinder.  Going in after them, Teddy learned, in answer to his eager questions, that the broker had, early in the morning of the previous day, received a visit from the Italian, who, announcing that he had no further use for the furniture, paid what was owing for the rent of it, and made a bargain for a box he was about to leave behind him; but, as to his subsequent movements, the man had no information to give, nor could even judge whether he intended leaving the city, or only the house.

Thanking him or the information, Teddy went drearily on his way, more hopelessly convinced than ever that Giovanni had deliberately stolen the child, and absconded with her.

“Well,” muttered he, “all I’ve got to do now is to tell the master, and take what I’ll get.  If he finds the little-no:  she’s none of that, nor ever was-if he finds her, and takes her home to them that lost her, I’ll be content, if it’s to prison, or to sweeping the streets, or to be a slave in the South, he sends me.”

Arrived at the office, Teddy faithfully performed his morning duties, and then seated himself to wait for Mr. Barlow, who was again occupying Mr. Burroughs’s office during that gentleman’s absence in the West.  While arranging upon his table some papers he was to copy, Teddy suddenly remembered that other morning, now nearly a year ago, when Mr. Burroughs had laid upon his very table the picture and advertisement of the lost child; and all the months of guilty hesitation and concealment that since had passed seemed to roll back upon the boy’s heart, crushing it into the very dust.  He threw down the pen he had just taken up, and laid his head upon his folded arms, groaning aloud,—­

“Oh! if I had told him then! if I had just told him that morning!”

The door of the office opened quickly; and Mr. Barlow, a grave and reserved young man, who had never taken much notice of Teddy, entered, and, as he passed to the inner room, glanced with some curiosity at the boy, whose emotion was not to be quite concealed.

“If you please, sir”—­

“Well, Teddy?”

“I should like to send a letter to Mr. Burroughs.”

“Do you mean a letter from yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

A slight smile crossed Mr. Barlow’s face, as he replied a little sneeringly,—­

“I am afraid your business will have to wait till Mr. Burroughs’s return, my boy.”

“Don’t you be sending him letters, sir?”

“I have; but, when I heard from him yesterday, he was about leaving Cincinnati, and gave me no further address.  He will be at home in a day or two.”

Mr. Barlow passed on, and Teddy stooped over his work, but to so little purpose, that, on submitting it for inspection, he received a sharp reproof for his negligence, and an order to do the whole afresh.